


Side Benefits

by NorroenDyrd



Series: Dwarf Who Walked in Dreams [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bi Solas, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexual Solas, Crestwood, Fade Tongue, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Smut, Non-Canon Relationship, Self-Doubt, Solas Being Solas, Solas Feels, Solas Spoilers, Solas is Fen'Harel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 12:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9440264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorroenDyrd/pseuds/NorroenDyrd
Summary: It would have been better to let Cadash believe that what they had was merely a casual fling, an appreciation of his muscular 'side benefits' - but Solas cannot bear to let him think that.





	

When, very slowly, Solas turns to walk away, he can still feel Cadash's eyes on his back. Their intense, pained gaze is almost tangible - like everything in this little corner of Crestwood, where the Veil is especially thin, and the spirits keep pressing at it, agitated and confused by the sudden eruption of raw emotion in the waterfalls framed clearing. The spirits whisper, in trailing, rustling voices, their words vague like the wisps of bluish vapour that escape Solas' lips as he draws prolonged, constricted breaths between his teeth. They flit past Cadash, his Mark allowing them to reach out to him, to sense his anguish - and, like Solas, they wait for him to speak.  
  
_Please,_ Solas chants to himself, lowering his head and clenching his fists. _Please, please, please, let him be angry. Let him hate me. Let him hate me and move on._  
  
_Let him hate me and move on._ Those were the words that a lone, dying woman said to them when they stumbled across her in Emprise du Lion, sprawled atop the hard, caked crust of snow, her chest heaving spasmodically as she struggled with every breath, blood-red shards piercing the tender flesh of her throat. She implored the Inquisition's agents not to let her lover know of her fate, to trick him into thinking that she had stopped caring for him and left him behind, rather than open his eyes and allow him to see the horrible truth. And now Solas, more than he ever could, understands the full scope of the shattering desperation that took up the final thoughts in her fading mind. And just like that woman in the snow, he repeats, in a drumming mantra that rings in tune with his rapid heartbeat,  
  
_Let him hate me and move on._  
  
It will be so much easier to sever all ties between them, to return to the path that Solas must walk, no matter what misgivings he might have had. It will be so much easier if Cadash just tosses some enraged outcry after him, some many-tiered Dwarven curse, of the kind that usually got saved for anyone who dared raise a weapon against Solas in battle... But Cadash never does any of this. He never invokes damnation upon Solas' head, never tells him to 'sod off', never compares him to a freshly gutted nug... Instead, he speaks in a quiet voice that would have appeared calm and even, if it were not for a tremulous undertone running through it like a jagged crack.  
  
'You know... You know that dragon hunt in the Approach that I went on with Cassandra and Dorian? The one you were so worried about because I didn't tell you? We killed the beast so that Dorian could extract its tooth, split it in half, and give it to Bull. It's a Qunari tradition - a symbol of unity between a person and their... kadan. Their most cherished friend. Dorian told me that he spent such a long time believing that he would never be Bull's kadan; that their relationship could never be more than a casual dalliance - because this is all you can expect in Tevinter... But then...'  
  
Here, the crack grows broader, deeper, and Cadash has to pause to catch his breath.  
  
'But then, Dorian added that... Seeing you and me... Seeing... How much in love we were... It inspired him, and Bull... to look deeper into their feelings... To hope for... more...'  
  
He pauses again, and his next intake of breath sounds just as rasping as that of the dying woman amidst the frozen hills of Lion.  
  
'But now it looks like Dorian chose... wrong people to be inspired by'.  
  
A single sharp jolt throbs through Solas' chest. A hurried, desperate voice, the same one that implored Cadash to hate him, suggests to him that right now, it is best to agree and leave things at that. The two of them had a little dalliance; Solas enjoyed what, during one of their very first conversations, he called the 'side benefits' of Cadash's warrior training (namely, his battle-hardened muscles and the fascinating texture of his old scars); and now, it is time for them to put this fleeting affair behind them. But - but even though it might have been wiser to agree (and it would have certainly caused that burst of rage Solas has been expecting), be suddenly realizes, with more crystal clarity than the way he sees his reflection in the stream at his feet, that he cannot allow Cadash to greet the dawn of this night thinking this. He cannot allow him to remember all of this as something shallow and fleeting and meaningless. Because that would be a lie. Because it was not meaningless - none of it was.  
  
Not the first baby steps that the Dwarven Herald took in the Fade, with Solas walking by his side, closely studying his broad, rugged, tattooed face, expecting him to react to this new, unfamiliar world with fear and distrust - and then feeling a smile of joyful surprise touch his lips, as his companion whirled towards him, eyes alight with eager curiosity, and bombarded him with questions.  
  
Not the time when Solas took his inquisitive student - no, his friend, discovering the same treasures that he cherishes so much - to meet some friendly spirits, and, mesmerized by the sight of a Dwarf in the Fade, they flocked around the newcomer, sharing the knowledge that they had stored, while Cadash told him of the lyrium-etched Memories in Orzammar, and Solas found himself wondering whether he had been too dismissive of the children of the Stone.  
  
Not all the precious little scenes that Solas got to witness when, shedding the lofty mantle of the Inquisitor (which he has always found too heavy a burden to bear), Cadash reached out to the common folk, left crippled and homeless and unsure if their future in the wake of the Breach. The way he extended his hand to help, the way he guided people to safety, and reassured them with a simple smile or a pat of the part of their limbs that he could reach - it never failed to make Solas feel a subtle, wistful warmth deep within his chest, which still lingered, even as he turned away and reminded himself that Cadash's kindness was merely prolonging the lives that had to end for the sake of his ultimate goal.  
  
Not the first kiss that Cadash gave him, as they explored the Fade's likeness of Haven, taking him abruptly by the hands and standing on tiptoe to reach his cheek. The Dwarf instantly drew back, stuttering out a jumbled apology - but Solas, no longer able to resist the burning impulse that had been flaring up  for a far greater time than he would dare to admit, leaned down, wrapping his arm around Cadash's shoulders, and caught at his lips with his, his tongue tingling with an overpowering, heady hunger, while a voice inside his head screamed at him in alarm, 'What have you done, fool?! There will be no turning back now!' - and he, in the words of the man he was holding close, mentally told the voice to sod off.  
  
Not that night after Halamshiral, when Cadash lowered himself on his bed, kicking off his boots, and started a casual conversation with Solas, who had come up to his quarters under the pretext of taking another look at the now-healed wound that the Inquisitor had suffered during a confrontation with Florianne's Harlequins. For a while, they talked about the events of the ball, and how Cadash had almost crushed all bones in the throat of the courtier who had announced Solas as his 'elven serving man', and how no, Cadash was not at all awful at dancing... And then the Dwarf fell silent, his hawk-nosed, bearded profile sculpted against the moonlit window in pure ebony; and a silvery ray slid across his vest, which he had mechanically begun to unbutton... And, not quite knowing what he was doing, the wine he had been treated to by the palace servants ringing in his ears, Solas allowed his hand to follow that light, his fingers gently finishing what Cadash had started, while the Dwarf let out a mischievous growl and, wrapping his legs around Solas' back, pressed his hot, searching mouth first against his lips, then his neck, his collarbone, his shoulder, with his large callused hands slipping under the elf's tunic and caressing his skin, while the hard feeling of his arousal against Solas' body made the latter let out a sound that was something in between a laugh and a sigh and an exclamation of gratitude.  
  
Not the morning after that night, and quite a few other nights that followed, when, still floating blissfully through the Fade, Solas could see a vague outline of Cadash, breaking through from the waking world - gently pulling back the covers and tracing his hand lightly against the lines of the elf's lithe body, whispering, 'You are so perfect, salroka... So perfect...' And Solas woke up smiling - and yet with a faint tang of pain in his heart. For he knew that 'salroka' - the word that Cadash whispered to him between kisses, his stubble tickling his ear, and breathed out in admiration when Solas performed a particularly complex magical feat (not exactly without the intention to impress), and cried out in fear when the elf staggered back in the battlefield, clutching at a wet red spot on his side - meant 'one by my side'. And there will come a time when Solas will be one by Cadash's side no longer.  
  
And yet, even though this time is inevitable, even though Solas should never have allowed himself to grow so close to the Child of the Stone - none of this was meaningless. No, it was...  
  
'It was real,' Solas says simply, turning his head to face Cadash again. 'What we had was real'.  
  
'Then why...' No, he shouldn't have turned back. He does not think he will be able to bear it for long - this look of agony that twists the Dwarf's features. Oh, what has he done...  
  
'Why are you ending this? Don't you know... Don't you know that I...'  
  
_Please, please don't say it. If you do, I might never be able to walk away - and I must walk away. I must walk away, and return to righting the horrible wrong that I did to this world. Even though... Even though I love you too. I love you more than anything; I would have loved you even if we had not found shared ground because of your Mark. Because even without the Mark, without the link to the Fade, you would have remained yourself. You would have retained your brave, kind, beautiful spirit, which has captivated me so much. And with it, the world it is so firmly engrained in... And I can't be captivated by what is but a temporary hindrance to the true universe that I have tainted._  
  
Before Cadash can finish, Solas cuts in, with a mournful shake of his head,  
  
'I am afraid I have distracted you from your duties... I am sorry... Inquisitor'.


End file.
